Methos Rides Again
by Gwathren
Summary: Sequel to Hey! No Powers! Methos decides to recover by getting away from it all and ends up in the middle of an adventure from which even he may find no escape. Updated 5/30/11!
1. How Methos is found by Trouble

Somewhere, in the back woods of sunny North Carolina, slumbering peacefully was an Immortal chap of immense age. He was settled into a rough campsite with a lean-to shelter and a well used fire pit. The events of the past few years had left him with a need to escape for a while and, borrowing a page from a certain immortal boy-scout, Methos had turned to nature as a means of relief.

The sun was just peaking over the tops of the distant trees when a particularly loud bird nearby chimed out a shrill greeting into the morning air. Methos awoke and blinked dully at the sky above him. Muttering a few choice curses about wildlife, nature, and this whole crazy idea he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Methos sighed and stretched, putting aside his complaints about his current situation and reveling for a moment in the fact that he not only knew where he was but what he was doing there. Both things may seem small but in light of the past couple of years, they were major accomplishments. Methos smiled at his good fortune.

"Nothing like getting back nature." The ancient immortal muttered sarcastically but happily. These last few months of wandering away from civilization and its complications had done much to restore his former good natured attitude. Nothing however, could be done for his overarching cynicism. It was a strong belief of Methos that pessimist is only an optimist with experience. Still, the sky was clear and it looked like it was going to be a beautiful day for backpacking. Methos was smiling again. He was still smiling when he rolled over and found himself staring into a golden yellow pair of eyes that had not been there went he went to sleep.

He let out as manly a yelp as possible and backed up quickly, scurrying back across the ground until he came up against a tree.

The eyes in question merely blinked. The woman to whom they belonged sat up slowly, looking around at the campsite with an air of confusion. Her eyes alighted on Methos as he pressed himself against the tree and the confusion turned to something like acceptance. She blinked owlishly in his direction then laid her head in her hands with a sigh. Methos noted her lack of sleeping bag and with a small amount of relief noted that she had not been in _his _sleeping bag.

"Not again." She muttered quietly.

Methos relaxed by degrees, still maintaining the small amount of distance his frantic scurry had gained him. Those five precious feet could be all that stood between him and something strange happening to him again. It had only been a few months since he left New York, he didn't think he was up to handling strange again at that moment.

The woman stood and rubbed her back. "Sorry about this." She sighed. "I didn't mean to disturb your camping trip."

Methos nodded slowly, still in the process of recovering.

"I guess I'll go." The mysterious figure brushed off her pants then turned to walk off into the woods

"Wait!" Methos called, standing quickly and reaching out to grab her arm.

Now why on earth had he just done that?

The woman turned slowly. She took in his hand holding her arm then moved her gaze upward to his own. A shock ran through him as he met her honey-gold stare.

"I think that it would be in your best interest to release me." She said calmly. "I said I was sorry now please let me be on my way."

For the first time Methos noticed a myriad of small cuts decorating her pale face. The cuts were not fresh but some of them had been rather deep and a small trickle of dried blood traced the line of her jawbone and ran down to soak into the collar of her torn t-shirt.

"Let me help you with those cuts, I have a first aid kit." He gestured towards his tent with his free arm. He had the strange impression that if he let go of her arm she would disappear and he would never see her again…

And why is that a bad thing? Asked the still small voice of self-preservation. Methos pushed the voice aside and attempted to smile reassuringly.

A look of shock flitted across the woman's face and she reached a tentative hand up to feel her face. She draw her hand back and examined a small droplet of blood on her finger. Holding it up to her nose she sniffed gently then looked back up at Methos.

Her eyes suddenly seemed cold. The honey-gold smoldered with a sudden hatred that made Methos wince.

Stupid stupid old man. I thought we were avoiding strange by being out here, not offer it medical care. Maybe he was not as back to his old self as he had hoped. There was no good reason why he shouldn't run screaming in the other direction and yet here he stood. Meeting the eyes of a wolf staring out of the face of a beautiful woman.

Still, beautiful or no, he was so totally out of here. The ancient immortal welcomed back the voice of self-preservation and it came back with only the barest of I told you so. If he ran to the north there was a house only two miles away. If he could evade her until then…

She drew a deep breath and made a visible attempt to calm herself.

Methos resolve to run away faltered. It was just first aid wasn't it? It was not like he was going to rush off and help her solve whatever trouble she was in. The voice of self-preservation surrendered to defeat and slunk off to sulk.

"I can walk by myself." She stated fiercely. Methos shook himself and let go of her arm.

'Sorry about that. I just…" He met her eyes again and forgot what he was going to say.

"First aide?' She asked helpfully.

Methos nodded. It wasn't until she looked away that he was able to recover rational thought.

"Sorry." She muttered.

Methos stumbled back to his tent to locate his unused first aide and wondered just what he was getting himself into.

I'm BACK!! 

Fear me, love me, review me.

Rachel

P.S. Check out the new chapter in Hey! No Powers! For a teaser note about my battle with the muse.


	2. How Methos finds a Banter Companion

Methos couldn't seem to shake the sneaking suspicion that sometime in the space between waking and this moment, something had gone horribly and irrevocably wrong. He attempted to console himself that it was just the unusual circumstances of his waking and not an honest estimation of his future. Consolation was of little comfort however and he couldn't stop the slight tremor in his hands as he dug through his pack for the first aide kit.

"First aide kit, 1 pound 4 ounces." He muttered absently. He had tried to assure the man at the backpacking store that he really did not need medical supplies but the employee had been so tenacious one would think he worked for commission. What had sold him in the end was the double bonus of getting the man to shut up and leave him alone and the fact that it would not weigh him down too much. He supposed, thinking back, that it had been a good thing he had purchased it after all.

"I really should get going." He heard the girl's clear voice call from outside his small lean-to.

"I've almost got it." He called back, finally catching a glimpse of its shiny white cover. Pulling his prize from the shadowy depths of the pack Methos held it up and turned to the girl with a grin. "See?"

Methos made his way back out of the lean to and settled onto the leafy ground. "I can't remember what you told me about how you ended up here." Methos said cautiously. Granted she probably didn't want to tell him but his curiosity demanded at least a cursory inquiry.

"I didn't." She said with a hint of a smile in her voice.

Methos patted the ground next to him and began unpacking what he needed from the small kit.

"Are you going to tell me?" He asked hopefully.

"I could tell you but then…"

"You would have to kill me?" Methos joked.

She considered that for a moment. "No. But someone else might."

"Oh."

"Oh." She agreed.

Methos patted the ground again and this time she sat with an admirable amount of grace though he noticed that her hands were trembling just as much as his were.

"No need to be afraid of me." Methos said with what he hoped was a disarming smile.

"It's not you I'm afraid of." She said flatly, still keeping a quick eye on pretty much ever bit of their surroundings.

Taking a deep breath, Methos steadied himself and went to work cleaning some of her larger cuts. He tugged on a fragment of bark and wood that was embedded in her cheek and the motion reopened the wound causing an angry red drop of blood to well up and drip down her chin. Methos expected her to jump or complain but her face never changed. She held perfectly still except for her eyes which had stopped their dance and were focused solely on him.

Methos swallowed.

"My name is Wyn."

The hand wielding the tweezers paused while liberating a particularly stubborn chunk of debris. Methos was puzzled, "Huh?"

"My name. It's Wyn." She blinked her honey gold eyes and Methos struggled to hold onto rational thought.

"Methos." The ancient immortal said without thinking. _Why bother with the fake ID if you are never going to use it you ninny _he mentally chastised himself.

"Methos." She repeated, testing the strange name on her tongue. "That's an odd one."

"I'm an odd one." Methos admitted.

Methos reached down and grabbed a band-aid. He was about to apply it to one of the cuts when she grabbed his arm. Her grip was firm but surprisingly cool, it wasn't a hot morning but her skin seemed colder than the weather warranted.

"Don't need those." She said, chuckling. "I'm a fast healer."

Methos grudgingly set down the bandage and grabbed an alcohol wipe instead. He cleaned the skin around the cut as best as he could, careful not to get any alcohol in the wound itself. "Aren't you worried about infection?" He asked.

She chuckled and hugged her knees tighter. "No."

"Any idea how you got them?" Methos asked softly, working to avoid looking into her eyes.

The soft bell-like laughter stopped abruptly and her voice was guarded when she replied. Methos chanced a look at her face and was surprised but the intensity of the feeling he saw there.

"Not exactly, but I have a pretty good idea."

"Oh." He said again. Gripping the tweezers tightly he went back to work at cleaning out the cuts which had a surprising amount of debris in them.

"You sure you don't want me to bandage these." Methos asked, concentrating on a tiny droplet of blood that was making its way down the tweezers towards his hand.

"No. Just get all the hunkys."

Methos paused and looked at her again, she glanced around, puzzled. "What?" She asked innocently.

"Hunkys?" Methos asked, grinning.

"Yeah hunkys."

"What," Methos asked with mock seriousness, "are hunkys."

"Hunks of… stuff."

"Hunks of stuff."

"If you have a problem with my phraseology then there are a hundred other hikers with first aide kits who would love to provide handy medical service." She said, fighting a smile.

Methos threw up his hands in mock defeat. "Please forgive me my lady." He brandished his tweezers in a manly fashion. "I pray, do not rob me of my duty to care for any beautiful lady who I have the pleasure to wake up beside."

"Keep your ridicule to yourself and I will graciously allow you to continue."

Methos bowed his agreement and went to work on the last few cuts.

"Doesn't this hurt?" He asked softly, loosing the trace of his earlier humor.

She shrugged by means of reply. "I guess."

Finishing at last, Methos sat back and for the first time took a good look at his unusual companion. He had been so captivated by her eyes that he had missed the torn and tattered clothing covering a slender frame. He missed the bare feet and calloused hands.

The early morning sunlight slanting through the trees made her shoulder length auburn hair glow red. She turned to look at him and he managed to notice her pale lips and heart shaped face before her eyes captured his attention.

Beauty and mystery. Both of the things that he could do without in his life. Then why, oh why, had he asked her to stay. His instincts were in agreement that it had been the beauty that had intriqued him and utter idiocy that drove him to grab her arm. Methos couldn't help but agree with this estimation.

He smiled wanly, not sure of what to say. He waited for her to continue but only a moment passed before she grabbed his wrist. She placed a finger over her lips and Methos held as still as possible as she stared off into the woods at something only she could see.

After a moment she turned back to him and captured his eyes with her own honey-gold.

"They're coming."

Methos started to say something but she put a hand gently over his mouth.

"Look. Thank you for your help but now I must go. Do as I say and they won't bother you." She glanced back at the woods and turned back to him, whispering quickly. "Don't say anything about me being here. Play dumb. And whatever you do don't think about me. Concentrate on what you're having for breakfast."

Methos knit his eyebrows together questioningly.

"I can't explain. Pray I never need to. Thank you!" She stood quickly and bounded out of the clearing and melted into the woods. The leaves rustled slightly as she passed into the trees but after that everything was as silent as if she had never been there.

Methos inhaled deeply.

It was official. The trouble always found him. He had always suspected that all the crap he went through wasn't his fault but some great cosmic joke. This incident further supported the theory. Even alone in the woods he couldn't avoid trouble.

He was doomed.

Still. Methos had to admit that it did make life interesting. Interesting versus safe. He honestly was not sure which he preferred anymore.

Besides, what was he going to have for breakfast. He still had bagged tuna but the mere thought made him vaguely nauseous. Still, what else was there? He could hunt for breakfast.

Methos snorted. Right, him hunt. Not that he couldn't, just that he infinitely preferred to stalk the aisles of a well stocked grocery store.

Just as he was about to relent and break open a bag of tuna fish he heard a crashing noise in the woods to his left. Granted it was not so much a crashing noise as the normal sound that people make when moving through densewoods. But his recent experience with Wyn and his relative isolation over the last few weeks made such a common place sound seem overly loud.

Looking down at the first aide equipment he did a quick mental calculation. Sure he could pack it up but not fast enough. He needed a reason to explain why he would have it out. It wasn't necessary but for some reason Methos' instincts were screaming that it would be a good idea to have one. Reaching into his back pocket Methos drew out his pocket knife and with a silent curse used the knife to make a sizable cut in his left forearm.

"Ouch." He muttered quietly, clenching his now wounded limb and opening a package of gauze as best as he could with one hand and his teeth.

"Need some help with that?"

Methos glanced up from his work to take in the three well muscled gentleman who had just recently come crashing out of the trees into his clearing. Two were overly large with shoulders nearly as wide as they were tall. They looked as sturdy and strong as the old growth oaks right behind them. _Just about as dumb as the trees too_ Methos thought, taking in their blank expressions. The other man was slightly smaller but no less muscled. His dress shirt and pants in contrast to his companions tight t-shirts and jeans marked him as the possible brains of the unit. All three were relatively decent looking with rich dark eyes and hair. Not as relatively decent looking as himself of course, but they weren't ugly.

He wished the local wild-life had said something about the amount of foot traffic this patch of land received. He might have thought differently about settling here.

"What foot traffic?" The slightly smaller gentleman asked.

Methos let his eyes gloss over and grinned broadly. "Any traffic here is a lot of traffic." He suddenly understood the warning about dwelling only on breakfast.

He concentrated on keeping his mind blank. How many bags of tuna did he have left. He could simmer it with something to make it taste less like tuna. Did he have any herbs with him? Herbs were too heavy, he probably hadn't packed them. He could take out one of those annoying birds but they weren't more than a mouthful.

The smaller gentleman walked over and knelt in front of Methos. His eyes were cold and flat. Tuna. Tuna. Tuna. Tuna….

"What are you guys doin' out here?" Methos asked cheerfully. "You're welcome to rest here for a while with me if you like. It's been a powerful long time since I had any company." Tuna. Tuna. Tuna. He thought helpfully.

"Where is she?" The smaller man asked, affecting a disarming smile.

Yeah disarming in the same way a smiling gorilla is disarming. Which is, of course, in no way at all.

"Where is who?" Methos asked, busying himself with wrapping the gauze around his arm. I could have a meal bar. But would I eat peanut butter or caramel? Too many choices. Methos blinked at the man innocently.

"We know she came through here." The man's tone deepened threateningly. His breath really smelled. Rotting meat and spearmint.

Methos tied off the gauze and looked around for his pocket knife to cut it.

"Looking for this?" The man asked, holding up Methos' knife.

Methos smiled and nodded. He reached out to grab it but the man pulled it back. Running a thumb along the blade the man spoke again, "Cut up pretty cut wasn't she?" The man looked up to meet Methos eyes and a chilling grin crept across his face.

A stab of fear hit Methos in the gut and proactive thoughts attempted to bubble up but Methos squashed them. Caramel or peanut butter?

The other two men were moving closer and laughing under their breath. _No offering them any meal bars. _Methos thought petulantly.

"Knifes will do that." The smaller man whispered. Was that spearmint or wintergreen? Tic-tac's aisle two.

One of the other two walking concrete slabs spoke up for the first time. "Not so bad though, makes it easier."

"Yeah," agreed the other, "Can smell her blood."

They both sniffed appreciatively and Methos felt a wave of nausea. Maybe he wouldn't have breakfast after all. Did he have any meal-bars left?

The smaller man turned to growl at his companions and they fell silent. He turned back to Methos.

"We don't need your help anymore anyways." His hand shot out and grabbed Metho's injured arms. The poor immortal yelped as his hand was dragged gruffly towards the small man's face. His nostril's flared as he inhaled deeply. Methos belately noticed a dry smear of some red-brown substance on his fingers. Whoops.

The small man smiled again and Methos couldn't fight the wave of fear that washed over him. There was nothing human in that smile.

"You've done enough." The man said, his voice deep and course like broken glass. "and I imagine you will be wanting that breakfast now."

"Shouldn't we take care of him?" One of the larger fellows asked.

"Yeah." The other agreed.

The man looked Methos up and down. "Nah, he was just being helpful. What could a human like him do anyways?"

The human shaped mountains looked unsure.

"Please don't hurt me." Methos groveled, hugging his wounded arm and doing his best impression of wounded puppy.

The smaller man turned his head to the side and spit. "If we waste time with him she might have a chance to get away. You know what happens if she escapes for good."

An unseen signal set the muscles with legs off in the direction that Wyn had fled. The small man spared Methos one last glare before dropping the knife and crashing off into the woods.

Methos sat still for a moment and let his heart stop hammering like a trapped bird. He heaved a sigh and picked up his knife with trembling hands. Closing it slowly he slipped it back into his pocket and glanced around his now empty campsite.

"Oh, boy."

* * *

How's that for a quick update. Boo-yah.

Review! Yes, i actually read them.

Rachel


	3. How Methos makes a Rash Decision

Greetings all, sorry it took so long but life got a little hectic there for awhile. I had a break and all i wanted to do was write. Cliche but satisfying. Anyways, there has been some flack for the old man letting someone creep up on him like Wyn did but alls that i can tell you is that Wyn is a particular person. Don't sell her short just yet :)

Anyways, enjoy, read and review please... i makes me update faster I promise.

* * *

Methos let his breath out through clenched teeth as the crashing faded into the distance. He took a deep breath and fell back onto his bedroll.

"Why me?" He asked the fluffy clouds above. A bird twittered nearby and Methos growled softly, wishing for a good bow and arrow. Sighing once again, Methos brought his hand up and rubbed the bridge of his nose gingerly. It was settled. If there was anything inherently dangerous, deadly, unpleasant or uncomfortable anywhere in the general vicinity it would find him. Well, he had always been the lucky sort. And he had thought his fun was over once he escaped the mutants. Silly old man.

Still, he wondered how that girl was doing eluding the Three stooges. Nope, don't go there old man. Best to just forget about it and move on. Go for safety, not interesting.

He sat up half way and rested on his elbows. The already healed cut on his arm didn't protest in the least. Turning his head his gaze settled on his pack and the short sword nestled within.

No.

_You have had 5000 good years, who could ask for more than that? _

There was a mental pause.

_I could_. The voice of reason asserted.

He closed his eyes for a moment, deliberating. He was greeted by the sight of two haunting golden yellow eyes. No, no. Nope. Uh uh.

But what if they… No. Nope. Not my concern. Its not like they could… No. No, no.

_Come on old boy_, _just get up and go_. He stood up slowly and brushed off his pants. He was just about to gather his things and head out of this crazy place when a shot sounded in the distance. A flock of birds flew up in a cloud from some distant part of the forest. Methos paused in reaching for his pack caught in a moment of indecision.

_Well, crap._ He muttered inwardly. Logic asserted that he ought to just leave and forget about it. It wouldn't matter in a couple of decades. But would he always wonder? Not really. Her bell like laughter echoed eerily in his mind and he cursed softly.

The self-preservation that he had cultivated for time out of mind demanded that he just get up and leave. Forget all about the beautiful woman with strange eyes. Odds were that in the next couple of thousand years he would meet someone else just like her and he could save her then. Or better yet, she might not be in trouble that time. Still, what was he saving his life to do? The same thing he had been doing for the last millennia. So why not risk his neck? He had a hunch that this Wyn could add a little spice to his life. Something he didn't necessarily need but still.

"Oh hell, why not?"

He shrugged and drew out his short sword. Cursing once more he headed in the direction that Wyn had disappeared. He hacked once at an offending bit of foliage then disappeared into the trees.

A bird twittered in the empty campsite that until about an hour ago had held a content sleeping immortal. The bird had watched the events with mild interest but now all had faded to the mild question of whether or not the abandoned gauze would work in his nest.

Even that question faded however and the bird suddenly took to wing when yet another group of noisome humans walked into the campsite. The bird thought distantly as it fled in terror that if had known that this area received so much foot traffic he would have warned the nice camper before he settled there.

Half a dozen stocky humans clad in camouflage tromped into the clearing and glanced around the campsite. One held up his hand and the group paused. He glanced down at a small screen in his hand then gestured silently towards the opposite side of the clearing. Instantly the group was on the move again, tromping into the forest in the direction that Methos had gone mere minutes before.

Not far enough away for peace of mind, Methos heard the new group behind him. He rolled his eyes. Of course, three really large possibly telepathic cretins would simply have been too easy. Another shot sounded in the distance and a scream, faint but clear rang out through the expanse of trees. The determined immortal quickened his pace.

Deeper into the forest, Wyn had gained a significant amount of ground on her less than graceful hunters. She smiled, perhaps this time she would actually escape. A ravine opened before her and she leapt over it with no problem but as soon as her feet hit the ground on the other side, some ten feet away, the ground lurched alarmingly and she stumbled forward. She barely had time to wonder about what was happening when she tripped over a hidden root and went tumbling through the leaves and underbrush before coming to a sudden halt against a large oak. Her feet unceremoniously up in the air she struggled to right herself as the three crashing oafs behind her drew ever closer. Swearing high, loud, and repeatedly would have been satisfying at this moment but she suppressed the urge. The time for emotional release would come after she got away.

Finally managing to regain verticality she tried to move forward again but a sudden wave of dizziness found her on the ground once more. The world was swimming in a nauseating fashion and Wyn gulped. Another bout of dizziness brought darkness in its wake and she struggled to remain conscious.

"Wake up!" She muttered forcibly, now was not the time for this. The crashing was coming ever closer. Really, really not the time for this.

She put both hands down on the leafy ground and pushed. She managed to almost put one foot under her before her limbs crumpled and she found herself with her face in the leafs that had been farther away about ten seconds ago.

"Curses!" She whispered into the mulch. What had they done to her? A wave of anger helped her regain her feet with much help from a neighboring oak tree. She hugged the trunk and waited for the world to settle again. She could almost smell her pursuers now. There was no time left to flee even if she had been capable of it. One glance into the canopy of branches above her confirmed her fears. Had she been well, the ten feet from ground to branch would have been nothing, barely an obstacle, but at this moment it might as well have been the distance from earth to heaven.

They would pay for making her weak like this. The earth had once again settled into its usual stability and she let go of the tree cautiously. There was no telling how long before the next wave hit.

Turning in the direction of the oncoming pursuit she cracked her knuckles dramatically and grinned. "Might as well make the best of it."

The first one to burst through the brush never knew what hit him. Wyn, laying in wait, leapt out and landed a solid punch in his gut. When he doubled over, trying to regain his breath, she hit him with a well-aimed kick. She felt and heard bones give way as his head snapped up at an odd angle and he crumpled to the ground. Wyn felt her lips pull back in a fearsome smile as her next victim came crashing forward. He had some warning that something was wrong and Wyn had to contend with a semi-prepared opponent. His guard was up as soon as he spied the motionless body of his companion on the ground.

Her opponent was over six foot and built to match but Wyn couldn't help but keep smiling. The bigger they are…

He charged her first, confident in his size and strength. Wyn, far smaller and lighter leapt up and over his head as he charged forward. With strength she didn't know she still had she managed to vault well above the charging form and twist to land in a crouch behind him. Well he was still coping with the fact that his adversary was suddenly no longer in front of him Wyn jumped from her crouch and latched onto his back with one arm around his neck. His airway suddenly cut off, the large man reached up with two both hands and pulled on the arm pressed against his throat. He managed to loosen her grip just enough to let out a bubbling scream.

Wyn growled and squeezed tighter.

The man struggled to pull her off, his efforts getting weaker. In a burst of inspiration he tried to weaken her by slamming his back against the large oak nearby. Wyn felt herself weakening every time she was slammed into the tree but still it would have been over for him had his well-dressed companion not chosen that moment to arrive.

He took in his motionless lackey on the ground and the other struggling against a diminutive arm locked like a steel cable around his neck.

"My, my." He whispered in what sounded like an amused tone.

"You took out two of my Soldiers. I can see why they want you back." He chuckled softly. Meanwhile, the man that Wyn was choking was still weakly trying to slam Wyn into a tree even though his face was an interesting shade of blue and his legs had collapsed.

With infinite patience the man pulled out a small gun and leveled it at his lackey. A shot rang out and a cloud of birds flew up from the trees above. The large man crumpled to the ground and Wyn struggled to stand, the dizziness was threatening to come back and being slammed against a tree didn't help. Still, she could take this man. She growled again softly and was about to leap forward when another shot sounded. A sharp pain spread out from her collarbone and she looked down to see a tiny dart lodged in her shoulder. She had just enough time to give the man one glance of pure hatred before collapsing to the ground.

The well dressed man smiled and put the gun back into his jacket. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. He pressed the single button in the middle and dropped it next to Wyn's head. Kneeling beside her he brushed one lock of auburn hair behind her ear. She struggled slightly but the tranquilizer was doing its job and she quickly slipped back into unconsciousness.

"Silly girl? Don't you know that you can never be free again?"

Methos chose that moment to burst through the trees. He didn't even hesitate and brought the flat of his sword around to hit the man in the side of the head as he lifted his face to see who was coming.

The man's head snapped to the side and he fell onto the leaf litter. "You?" He asked, amazed.

"What can one simple human do?" Methos asked through clenched teeth. "This!" He spun the sword in his hand brought it plunging down point first through the man's chest, pinning him to the ground like a bug. For a moment he felt a twinge of conscience as blood welled up and soaked the man's suit as his struggles weakened and ceased. Why had he done that?

Oh well, kill them first or they'll kill you later.

He grabbed the small transceiver from where it lay near Wyn's body and threw it as hard as he could farther into the trees. Slinging the unconscious woman over his shoulder and vowing to feel guilty about stabbing somewhere later he ran off in the opposite direction.

The small group of camouflaged men burst onto the scene a few minutes later. The leader took in the fallen giants and their leader laying unnaturally still with a sword still jutting from his chest.

He sighed, "Damn."

Methos was panting heavily as he ran as fast as he could through the trees. Didn't this forest ever end? Stupid national park. Surprisingly, Wyn was not heavy at all. Not that she was overly large to begin with but she seemed to weigh less than a person of her height and apparent size. His panting was more a product of the humid day and stagnant air under the trees than because of his added burden. Sweat dripped down into his eyes and he searched around for a sheltered spot to take a short break. It had been at least an hour since he last heard any commotion behind him and it seemed likely that he had effectively lost the pursuers. As far as he could tell, the advance group had been the trackers anyways and whoever had been behind them were just following the three idiots now lying unconscious or dead.

He spotted a likely location for a short rest in a small cove created by a partially fallen pine tree. With a sigh he slung Wyn off of his shoulder and settled her against the trunk of the tree. He sat down heavily next to her and lay back on the ground with a sigh. A small breeze stirred the trees above and he wished desperately that it could make through to the ground. Methos also silently cursed his impulsive decision making skills that led him to leave vital objects such as maps and compasses in his pack. Sure, the sword had been important but a map, now that would really be helpful.

A soft sound from beside him grabbed his attention and he turned away from his inner scolding to look at his unconscious companion. She cracked her eyes tentatively and he watched as she sluggishly glanced in his direction. Upon spying him, still laying on the ground, she made a strangled sound and tried to will her limbs into either running away or fighting, he couldn't tell.

"Shh.." He whispered softly and sat up to place his hands on either side of her face. He noted absently that her cuts were healed but then his attention turned back to calming her.

"It's okay. It's me remember? First aide guy." Methos smiled and held her in place so she had a chance to open her eyes all the way and recognize him. The dawn of understanding came slowly but then she had been through a lot so Methos understood.

She sluggishly reached up and touched his nose then a slow smile crept across her face. Her golden eyes were just as mesmerizing as he remembered, even dulled with tranquilizer they were beautiful. Methos swallowed and tried to refocus on the issue at hand. Her pale lips parted and she whispered something so softly that Methos had to lean in to catch it.

"That way." She whispered. Methos sat back and lowered his eyebrows quizzically. "Go that way." She repeated louder and raised a hand to point. Methos looked over to where she was pointing and then back at her. Even drugged she managed to roll her eyes and smile. "Civilization." She said, with a hint of exasperation in her voice.

Methos nodded his understanding, "Oh." She sighed something else that Methos didn't catch but he suspected it was something along the lines of "Idiot." With one more jab in the direction she said civilization lay, her eyes closed once again and her breathing became slow and steady.

The ancient immortal wondered fleetingly how he had gotten himself into this position then decided that it was best just to go with it now that he was in the thick of things. His self-preservation instinct wanted to argue the point but he silenced it. Hadn't he run away from things long enough? Maybe modern philosophy did have some merit. A safe life was one not worth living. Though safe lives tended to be longer it was about time that he added a little adventure rather than caution into his existence. Besides, its not really like they could kill him.

Having no better direction he wisely decided to head in the direction that Wyn had indicated and with a short prayer and longer curse he picked her up again and headed off into the forest, fighting the strange urge to whistle.


	4. How Methos Berates Himself while Lost

Sorry this update took longer than expected… but I'm Engaged!! Whoo hooo….

I was, understandably, distracted…

&&&

"And I am lost…" Method paused for emphasis, "in the woods again." The immortal heaved a sigh and adjusted the dead weight on his shoulders. Well, dead weight was a little morbid, if accurate, description. More like unconscious weight on his shoulders really. Methos sighed again, hoping it wouldn't become a habit.

Not only was he lost in the woods… again. But he was lost in the woods without a weapon…again. It had been unutterably, incomprehensibly, and profoundly stupid of him to leave his weapon behind.

"Stupid Methos, really brilliant of you." Of course, his stupid pride had been hurt so instead of going for a simple slash-and-run he had executed a stunning downward stab that, though supremely satisfying, had made it too time consuming to retrieve his weapon.

A simple slash across an artery and you could just wipe your sword and go but when you impale someone it takes a bit of time to get the blade loose and you are going to get covered in gore in the mean time. He supposed, on a purely logical level it had been fortuitous that he had abandoned his only source of defense. The bloodstained blade would presumable have been easy to track if a small drop of blood on his hand had aided them last time. That would have made him feel better if that had been his strategy all along. The truth of the matter was that he had simply not been sound of mind and had abandoned his weapon idiotically in favor of saving the damsel in distress. A damsel who, despite the passing hours, stubbornly remained tranquilized.

Methos glanced behind him at the mirk between the trees. It had been at least two hours since Wyn had pointed him in a direction and all though the trees had changed from hardwoods to pines which was a good sign, they still showed no signs of thinning. The ancient immortal shrugged and slung his unconscious companion off his shoulder and into a sitting position against a handy tree trunk. He settled down nearby with a groan.

Drawing his knees up, Methos rested his elbows on his knees and laid his head in his hands.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

With a soft chuckle Methos lifted his head and glanced up at the patch work canopy. Between the sparse pine boughs he was able to make out a couple of stars. Amazing that in 5000 years of experience he had never gotten the knack of using the stars to navigate. Oh well, one can't be perfect he supposed, though right now it might be handy.

"I am going to get myself killed." For once the voice of experience and his current impulsive state of mind were in agreement.

"What makes you say that?" Wyn asked from beside him.

"Zounds!" Methos yelped and scuttled back a few feet before reigning in his reaction. After hours of keeping silent company he had almost forgotten that she could speak.

"Now who has quirky phraseology?" Wyn asked, smiling sweetly.

Methos chose not to comment, "How long have you been up?"

Her golden-brown eyes looked thoughtful for a moment, "About a minute." She cocked her head to the side questioningly, "Why do you think you are going to get yourself killed. If anything, " She paused to smile, "I would be the one to get you killed."

Methos agreed wholeheartedly.

"But don't worry," Wyn reached over and patted Methos' arm awkwardly, "as long as you with me, no harm will be fall you. I owe you my life after all."

Methos looked at her and merely raised an eyebrow. She paused in the middle of picking a large scab just over her collarbone, "What?"

"You can barely take care of yourself." He noted.

"I can take care of myself just fine thank you." She defended, narrowing her eyes in his direction. There was just enough light left from the setting sun to see her.

"Yeah, unconscious in the clutches of the bad guy really said to me, 'I am capable and in no need of assistance'."

"I didn't know he had a tranquilizer gun." She shrugged and went back to worrying her scab, "He was a Soldier, they are hired muscle. You expect them to beat you senseless not knock you out from a distance. I would have taken him out the minute I woke up."

"Yeah, three hours later."

"Three hours?" She glanced around for the first time. "It took me three hours to wake up?"

Methos nodded. "The sun didn't set early just to spite you."

He had the distinct impression that she was debating between being serious and sticking her tongue out in his direction. After about thirty seconds, serious won out.

"This isn't good."

"Hence my previous statement, definitely going to end badly i.e…death."

"I should have been out a minute, tops." She chewed on her nail for a moment, "They must have done more to me than I thought." Methos nearly jumped again when she suddenly slammed her fist into the ground. "Bastards." She muttered emphatically.

Methos picked up a stick and played with the end, avoiding eye contact. "I suppose that now wouldn't a good time to explain. Even though I seem to have thrown myself into the middle of something here."

"Yes, you did. An you suppose correctly, now is not a good time." She stood and brushed herself off. "Come, we must go, they are still tracking us. We won't be safe until we are out of the woods." Pause to savor the irony…

"Safe?" Methos asked, silently dreading having to stand again.

"Safe being a relative term."

"Ah." He replied. "Just give me a second." Methos took a moment to stretch.

"Hurry it up!" She said, gesturing off into the gloom.

"Please note that the only reason you are so full of energy is because I have been carrying you for the last several hours."

Wyn shook her head, "By now they know you helped me. They have your scent from the campsite and your blood and fingerprints from the sword now lets go."

Methos couldn't argue with that. Besides, running away was something he never really tired of. A thousand questions burned on his tongue but he swallowed them back. Either his curiosity would be alleviated soon or it would dissipate over the course of the next two decades. Either way was fine with him, provided he came out of the rash ordeal with a whole skin.

Sometimes impulsivity could be a real pain.

At that moment Wyn turned to him and flashed her honey-gold eyes in his direction then with a quick smile set off into the forest.

Then again, sometimes doing the stupid thing was just that much more fun.

Methos felt a smile spread across his face. Then, with danger behind him, the unknown before him and with no blade to stand between him and whatever darkness was coming, he set off after a mysterious stranger with a grin on his lips.


	5. How Methos Gets a Few Answers

"I'm hungry

"I'm hungry."

"No you are not."

"I'm tired."

:growl:

"Are we there yet?"

Wyn counted backward from ten slowly and turned to face her erstwhile companion. "If I hear one more word out of that mouth I swear to god I will let them capture us both."

Methos placed both hands beside his head in a mock swoon, "Oh no! Not the scary and oh-so-mysterious bad guys who will surely kill us both."

Wyn just stared at him. As stares go, it said a lot.

Methos wasn't ready to give up just yet though. "The scary bad guys who will get us just as surely as a car will pick us up as soon as we reach the road." Methos paused to lean over and glance expressively down the empty length of pavement. "I was in the middle of frozen nowhere and I got picked up. This is North Carolina, there are always people on the back roads. I think, the problem here, is you."

"Oh really." Wyn managed through clenched teeth.

"Yeah, you got a negative attitude man. Cars aren't going to come until you start to think more positive." Methos adopted a loose swagger and walked up to slap a hand on her shoulder. "You got to relax. At least we are not in the woods anymore."

"You would not make light of the situation if you understood it more fully."

"But that's just it isn't," Methos noted wryly, "I have no earthly idea what the hell is happening!"

"We need to get further away from here before night fall."

"You still didn't answer my question, you haven't answered my question all day. I stabbed your pursuer and then carried your ass through the woods all bloody night and I think that it is time I got some bloody answers! And just as a by-the-way, your ass is not cute enough to make carrying it enjoyable."

"You have gone mad." Wyn stated flatly.

"Yes," Methos noted, resuming his usual demeanor, "Yes I have."

"Well, now that that's over," Wyn turned to continue walking.

"Nope, I am not moving anymore."

Wyn reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose. "I could just leave you."

"But you won't, you owe me. And I am not moving another step until you tell me what is going on."

"The less you know the safer you will be."

Methos chuckled dryly, "So was I safer before or after I killed one of those men and 'made enemies who will pursue my scent to the grave' as you so aptly put it."

"Were you always this annoying?"

"Long years of practice."

Wyn growled under her breath and paced back to Methos. "They want me because I can do naturally what all their scientists cannot recreate. They want to pull me apart so they can make thousands like me. I have been poked, prodded and violated in ways you cannot even begin to imagine and all because I am interesting science project with combat potential. They used my blood to make the Soldiers but they are not even a tenth of what I am. I spent the last five years trying to escape and you are not ruining it for me now!"

Methos held up a hand in surrender, "That is all you had to say."

Wyn snorted and set off again down the road.

"No need to walk." Methos called.

"What more could you want to know right now?" Wyn demanded, rounding on him again.

"There is a car coming." Methos said, trying to sound humble.

Wyn sighed, "Sorry I…"

Methos stopped her, "No need, I have been there too." He smiled sadly and turned to stick out his thumb. Defying all known laws of road safety, the car blissfully applied its breaks and pulled up next to the couple.

"By the way," Methos turned to meet Wyn's gaze, "I didn't mean what I said about your ass."

"I meant what I said, you truly are mad."

Methos just laughed and opened the car door.

The lights slid by the car window leaving streamers of reflections in the rain drops. Methos yawned and was decently certain that he felt his jaw crack with exhaustion. As for his strange partner, she and her golden eyes were sound asleep on his shoulder. Every now and then the ear piece of her newly acquired pair of sunglasses would dig into his shoulder but at least it kept him from nodding off.

It had been a scant 36 hours since their desperate flight and they were with their fifth generous driver. Wyn had gotten dark glasses after their first stop and some convenience store clothing considerably improved their chances of snagging another ride. Something about blood stained and suspiciously ripped get ups just said serial killer.

Methos flexed his hand and winced. Every few hour and his hand would seek out the comforting hilt of a sword and he always had to fight a moment of panic when there was none to be found. By his estimation they should be in Louisiana soon. He had a few contacts there that could help him out. If nothing else he could raid the Watcher store house in New Orleans, assuming they hadn't upped the security, which they never did.

Wyn moved in her sleep and muttered, reflexively he reached up to stroke her hair and she calmed down again.

Methos turned to look out the window again.

Who was she? What was she? Certainly the answer she had given him was a start but there were so many more questions. Normally he would rather cut and run. Whoever they were they couldn't outlive him and if they did catch him, it was easy enough to fake a death. But he couldn't be like that now, not anymore. She had been through captivity like he had. Would he have ever escaped if Striker hadn't been killed? Unlikely. He would still be a pawn to the whims of that power hungry madman. Surely he would have outlived him and his son eventually and then there would be no way to control him any longer but how much more evil would he have been a part of in 40 more years?

Perhaps once he would have run, and still a part of him longed for days when life was simpler, when there was only him to care for but maybe it was time for a change.

Besides, he had the rest of eternity to become an annoying and self-sufficient to a fault again.

With that comforting thought he drifted off to sleep.

……….

I'm baaaaack!

Rachel


	6. How Methos Plays Babysitter

There are things that I have lived through that no soul should be burdened with

There are things that I have lived through that no soul should be burdened with. Pain unimaginable, enough to make immortal years seem cursed. Yet at the token I have seen things mortals only dream of, civilizations rising and falling all in the course of time. That is the contradiction of endless life, pain and sweetness in one. The bittersweet gift of time is this, I can have more joy than a single lifetime can hold, but there is no sunshine without shadow.

* * *

My room is always the same, The ever present tang of musty canvas and cotton tack, the cold hard tile beneath my cheek, a drain in the corner that smells of vomit and worse, two inch thick wall of clear Plexiglas stands opposite with white coats and security all bustling about. There is no clichéd one way mirror here. They don't care whether or not I know they are there.

Currently I am chained head to foot like a pig to slaughter. I have been this way for three days. It's one of their favorite games to see how long I can keep from struggling against chains I know will hold. After so many games, they know how long I can last. After so many games they know how long I can hold on to self control, before my beast takes over. As soon as I thrash, its over. The hiss of gas will fill the room and when I wake up, the chains will be gone. I could just give them what I want. I could start to struggle immediately but I won't give them the satisfaction. At least when I am chained like this they can't stick any more needled in me.

Outwardly I lay calm, trussed like an animal. Inside though, my control is slipping. Three days without water or a chance to move will break anyone.

It starts as a growl deep in my throat and sudden flash of white hot pain and I am lost. The anger and hatred inside me twists like a living thing, my beast. Sheer emotion burns away what is left of me and I twist and snarl in my chains. Immediately my beast reaches out for more of my kind to help and is struck with a wall of silence. I recoil immediately, retching against the awful feeling of emptiness. For my kind, the connection is all. When I came here, the first thing they did was cut me off from the others and I have been alone since. Every time they bring me to this point, where I am in contact with my other self, the silence becomes harder and harder to bear. The beast becomes harder and harder to release. We require the link with others to stay human, to reinforce the personality separate from the Hunter.

It is not their games that will break me, it is the silence.

Imagine being trapped in a room and knowing that if you could only call for help you could be free but no matter how loud you scream, no one can hear you.

Still thrashing wildly against my bonds, howling with rage I distantly note the hiss of gas. My last memory is seeing a man jotting notes in a book. He turns to a colleague and smiles, mouthing "3 days"

I fall asleep with only hate in my heart.

* * *

Ah, this is a new game they have invented. Catch and Release. Though I suppose, that ought to be said in reverse order.

Here are the rules, go somewhere remote where the chances of rescue are slim and see how well she fares against out new hybrid soldiers.

I run.

Of course I run. It would frustrate them to no end if I just refused to cooperate but of course I cannot do that. What ever chance I have for freedom I must take.

So I run.

The branches tear at my face and my clothes but I don't care. Once I could have breezed through here, moved with the forest. But I am slow, drugged. Too long in a room of musty canvas and cotton tack, too many injections.

I am a shadow self. If I was as I was before they could not capture me again. I could destroy them all with no effort. But I am not what I once was. The cuts burn but I don't care. I don't know how long before I pass out from withdrawal. I have only now.

So I run.

If I can stay away long enough, they will never touch me again.

I swear it.

* * *

The car draws to a stop outside the motel and shuts off its engine. Of course the driver performed these actions, not the car itself but we will take that as wrote.

The driver tapped his passengers lightly to rouse them. Methos awoke quickly and sat forward, rubbing his eyes. Wyn did not budge.

"This is as far as I can take you." The driver said, seeming apologetic. Methos looked out the window at the sketchy motel.

"Where are we?"

"Just outside the Louisiana border."

"That's far enough. I thank you." Methos reached back for his wallet and swore internally. His wallet was with the rest of his camping stuff, abandoned in the backwoods of North Carolina.

Curses.

Methos settled for spreading his hands instead. "I would pay you…"

The man shook his head. "It's no problem, you just take care of that lady she seems a little sick."

Methos glanced back at Wyn and swore softly. Her olive skin was waxy and a fine sheen of sweat covered her forehead. She still had not awakened.

"Here," The driver was speaking again, "Get a room tonight and rest."

Methos glanced back and hesitantly took the proffered cash. "Thank you so much." The ancient immortal said, meaning every word. Right now he felt every year of 5,000 and a curbside nap simply wasn't going to cut it. What was wrong with Wyn?

Levering himself out of the car, Methos turned back around and picked up the unconscious mystery woman.

"You so better tell me everything when you wake up." He muttered as the driver restarted his engine and drove off to parts unknown. Juggling a handful of cash and an unconscious body Methos somehow made it to the main office with no mishaps.

"Why do I always end up carrying you?" He mused. At least this time she seemed to weigh less, which may or may not be a good thing. A handy bench sat outside the office door and he settled Wyn's sleeping form down on the wood slats.

"Stay" He commanded and opened the door. The bell roused the sleeping attendant and within a few moments he was able to wrangle a key. She was iffy about releasing a room without an ID but an extra bit of cash and a charming smile took care of that. American's always were suckers for a British accent.

He picked up his charge once more and headed to their room for the night. It took just a little too long to find the room and open the door and by the time he flicked on the light switch he was dancing with anxiety. Wyn was still unconscious but her breathing had become erratic and breath whistled out of her throat as if every breath was a struggle. He sat her up on the bed and she immediately flopped to the side. With a few choice phrases Methos gathered up the pillows and piled them at the top of the bed. Gently he laid her back against them and stretched out her legs. Once she was stable he ran the bathroom and ran cold water over a towel.

Her forehead was burning so he wiped that first then her face and wrists, every pulse point that was cooled could help lower her fever.

As he worked her eyelids fluttered and opened. Abandoning the towel he leaned forward quickly and spoke, "Wyn? Wake up please. Tell me what to do."

She groaned and drew a wheezing breath, "Tie me to the bed."

Methos laughed in spite of himself. "I don't think you are in any condition for that sort of…"

She coughed a laugh in response and gestured to the bed post. "Oh, Get…" She drew a shaky breath, "over yourself."

Methos smiled and smoothed the hair away from her forehead. She leaned away and coughed weakly, "I will be okay…" Breath, "In the morning. But you have to tie me."

"Only if you will explain later."

Wyn somehow managed to roll her eyes. "Always explanations with you."

"Hey I deserve something here."

Wyn nodded and sighed, "Yes, yes… just do it." Then closed her eyes again. If anything her breathing sounded worse but Methos just shook his head and groaned.

"'Tie me up' she says." He shook his head and removed his belt. Carefully he pinned her arm against the post and fixed it there with the leather strip.

"You better not die and leave me to explain this corpse." The old immortal murmured. A strip of the worn out sheet served to tie down the other hand and he declared his job finished. Just as he was leaning over to towel off her face again Wyn jerked upward and yanked roughly on her bonds.

"Are they too tight you didn't…" But Methos did not get a chance to complete his sentence. Wyn's golden eyes turned to his and he was struck to silence with the look behind them. There was nothing of Wyn there.

"Why can't I hear them?" She asked in a voice that was more a growl than anything. "You! You took them from me." Wyn's body lurched forward, straining against the bonds. Her teeth snapped in the air just inches from Metho's face and he wheeled backward, falling off the bed. Thwarted but not defeated, Wyn continued to thrash and pull against the knots on her hands. The wood creaked but Methos estimated that it would hold. Forced to remain laying down, the angle was wrong for Wyn to exert too much force on the knots or post.

And so much of the rest of the night passed. Methos dosed on the floor and brought her water between bouts of what he could only think of as insanity. All the while he calculated just how much she owed him. There was the matter of good nights sleep lost, she hogged the bed, snarled and snapped like anything, his belt was sure to be ruined and he hadn't signed up for this. Sure, he knew that following her would not lead to puppies and white picket fences but dual personalities, no way.

After that first outburst she didn't speak again only made incoherent sounds of frustration as she struggled with her hands, passed out then woke to struggle again.

He had known a couple immortals with split personalities and as he recalled it never ended well. Still, if he was resolved to live for the moment then he might as well go all the way. But where did living for the moment give way to the desire to remain alive or at least, relatively unharmed? That answer could come tomorrow morning as far as he was concerned. The ancient immortal was tired and sorely missing that sword right about now. Being back in civilization meant being back amongst his own kind and that meant heads would roll… literally. He would just as soon it not be his. For 200 years he had avoided conflict but he had sinking feeling that with the way his life was heading he would be headless all too soon.

A yawn distracted him from that gloomy line of thinking. God it had been a long night.

Outside the cheap cotton curtains the sky was lightening steadily. Wyn's body visibly relaxed and she turned her head in his direction.

Methos glared back but the only thing behind those honey eyes was Wyn herself. He laughed and leaned back against the TV cabinet which had served as a back rest much of the night.

Wyn shook her head slowly and examined the ties around her wrists. The skin was bloodied and swollen but already healing.

"Gods," She paused to sigh, "I need a drink."

Methos barked out a laugh and scrubbed at his face with his hands, "I most emphatically agree." He yawned again. "But only if you treat."

Wyn nodded her agreement, "After what I suspect you went through I believe I owe you."

"You owe me more than just breakfast."

"Untie me puny human, take me to the nearest greasy spoon and I promise I will tell you everything."

Methos jumped up to obey.


	7. How Methos accepts the impossible

Not even going to apologize for the delay. Unacceptable all around. So quit flinging your rotten veggies and you may pm me every day AriaJack but it twill not be from revenge! For here is the dreaded update of doom for which you have been waiting! MUA HA HA HA. This ones mostly chit chat, more action later.

Yeah okay, not more creeper laugh. Time for stories.

* * *

Wyn slid gracefully into the cracked red vinyl booth and moaned with pleasure.

"Oh my god, can you smell that coffee?" She said with eyes half-closed and a wide grin on her face.

Methos groaned and clunked into the opposite side of the booth with a weary sigh.

"Coffee sounds wonderful." He closed his eyes and leaned back in the booth. He heard the waitress approach and sat up straighter. The diner had just opened and there were only a few early birds drifting in so they didn't have to wait for service.

Wyn perked up instantly when the Waitress drew near. She grinned broadly but, Methos noted, kept her eyes down on the menu. He imagined those golden hued eyes would not have gone over well, especially not at a time like this when Mutants were far from loved. But was she a mutant? His brow furrowed from frustration and he shook his head. Soon he would get his answers, hopefully.

Wyn played the slightly confused customer to explain her continued attention to the cloudy plastic menu sheet.

"We'll both have Coffee and I will have uh… the Deluxe breakfast with hash-browns and do you guys serve fries this early?"

The waitress, blissfully unfazed indicated that they did indeed sell fries this early.

Wyn grinned wider, if that was possible, "Then I want two large orders of French fries."

Jotting down the order quickly the lady turned to Methos who had not even glanced at his menu, "I will have the same."

With a tired grin and a nod the Waitress moved with infinite slowness out of hearing range. Methos was about to die of curiousity.

"Answers." He said simply, settling further into the vinyl booth and crossing his arms. He affected a determined expression which he felt fit with his current mood.

"Coffee first."

"No." He said forcibly. "Now."

Wyn sighed and settled back into the booth, mirroring his posture.

"I do owe you. So, shoot."

"Are you a mutant?"

Wyn snorted and shook her head. "Mutants are a flash in the pan. They are an unsustainable evolutionary leap. Can you imagine a planet of superhumans ever being at peace? It would always be a game of who has the most powerful on their side. Rather like mutually assured destruction but without the bombs. Well, unless a mutant could manifest bombs but that's beside the point. No, I am much older than all that."

"Then what?"

"I guess," Wyn leaned forward and put her elbows on the table, "the closest name would be a lycanthrope."

Methos raised an eye incredulously, "You are a werewolf?"

"I really hate that word."

Methos laughed softly. "Here I thought you would actually answer my questions."

Wyn's gaze hardened, " I did."

"A werewolf? Come on Wyn. I wasn't born yesterday, if anyone would know about werewolves, it would be me."

"But you do know about them, everyone does. Every culture has a legend about them and every myth is a truth twisted by time."

"No, its impossible."

"The creatures in your stories are impossible. Shape-changing is just impractical really not to mention the whole where-does-the-extra-mass come from thing. Don't even get me started on the Hulk, do you have any idea how much Bruce must weigh?"

"Wyn…" Methos brought her back to the moment.

"At any rate, I don't go all 'argh'" she pretended to growl and hooked her fingers to emphasize the point, "at a full moon and turn into a wolf. Although there is a certain amount of truth to the myth. The uh… boundries between my human self and my beast are weaker at night."

"Well that's comforting," Methos muttered sarcastically.

"Look, it makes sense. Average humans are pathetic when it comes to defense. Where is survival of the fittest in blunt teeth and nails? It makes sense that once there were people suited to be hunters. Stronger, faster, stronger senses, sharper teeth and nails, faster healing… It makes sense that, at least in the beginning, people like me were the best adapted to survive, the result of a mutation much like whats happening now but more stable, able to be passed on."

"So in a way, you are a mutant." Methos muttered, sniffing air suspiciously. How could it smell burned when it had just been brewed?

"This current leap in evolution will probably result in people like me, yes. The best adapted will stick around to become legends for the future."

"I was there before farming was invented and if humans had been werewolves. I think I would remember."

"Oh so, you don't believe that I am from a race of hunters but I am supposed to believe that you are immortal?"

"No, that just slipped out, " Methos mentally cursed himself, "but the point is, you can't exist."

They both paused in their conversation while the Waitress brought their coffee.

Wyn picked hers up reverently and inhaled the steam rising from the top.

"Oh. My. God. I Love Coffee."

Methos was more sedate in his reaction and merely hooked a finger in the handle and slid the cup closer, still incredulous.

"You wouldn't happen to be related to Wolverine would you?" He asked quietly, "Not that I believe you…"

Wyn laughed and took a delicate sip from her coffee cup. Her eyes rolled in pleasure. "If that's who I think then I would have to say close, but no. Even we don't claim him."

"So you are a werewolf huh?"

"I really hate that word, why don't you try Hunter instead."

"A Hunter?"

"An Immortal?"

Methos shrugged, "What can I say, sometimes the good things never die."

"Like a cockroach." She intoned, then started giggling.

"What?"

"Nothing, I'm sorry… its just…you? Immortal?"

"Please don't make me stab myself, I really hate doing that. It's so cliché"

"I promise not to make you stab yourself."

"Thank you."

"Just don't make me do anything ridiculous."

"Like tie yourself to the bed and growl at me all night?" Methos asked innocently.

"Yes," Wyn paused, wrapping her hand around the coffee mug, "that."

"Yes, that."

"I suppose I owe you more than I thought." Wyn sighed, "Until yesterday I was a… guest of a rather unscrupulous organization. They primarily capture mutants and study how their powers work, seek to recreate them, you get the idea. Its your typical story really." Wyn paused to sip her coffee. "How I ended up there is a really odd story actually. You see others of my kind…"

"There are other werewolves?" Methos asked, still incredulous.

"Really hate that word. And yes, now shut up unless you don't want me to continue."

Methos mimed buttoning his lips.

"All of my kind is connected. Its sort of like a constant whirlwind of thoughts and ideas in your head. Strong thoughts stand out more, like a cry for help or an urgent question. We use it to stay in contact and support each other when the beast gets too strong, to remain in control." Wyn paused as the waitress brough their orders then continued, munching on fries. "I heard a cry for help and I acted on it. The people who captured me were holding a mutant who just happened to be… broadcasting on my frequency. I broke in but I was too late to save her. In my surprise at not finding another like me I was taken off guard and when I woke up…" Wyn stopped.

"What happened?" Methos asked, coffee and food unnoticed. He leaned forward and gently touched the back of Wyn's hand where it rested on the table. She flinched and gave a soft smile. Taking a deep breath, she continued, "When I woke up I was alone. Completely and utterly. For the first time in centuries I was alone in my own head. I…couldn't take it. I still can't hear them and what they did to me there, in that place, it weakened the part of me that's human. I'm… slipping away."

Methos pushed her coffee towards her and wrapped her fingers around it. She didn't respond but continued to speak.

"As I told you, the boundries between me and my beast are weaker at night. I can't fight it anymore. "

"Maybe whatever they did will wear off in time." Methos added, making an attempt at reassurance.

"I had hoped so as well but anything like a drug should have worn off by now. And its more than just my mental link, I am weaker, slower still and I shouldn't be."

Methos sensed that a change of subject was in order. "We will find the answer, don't worry. In the meantime, eat something." Methos picked up his still full coffee cup and gestured to the waitress for a refill. "Just leave the pot." He told the waitress when she arrived and the lady obliged, smacking approvingly on her gum.

"I always said a man who likes coffee is a keeper." The older lady intoned cheerfully, winking at Wyn.

Wyn gurgled mild agreement, her mouth full of french fries.

"So when were french fries invented o immortal warrior?" Wyn asked after the waitress had moved on with just a hint of lingering sorrow.

"How should I know?" Methos asked, taking a healthy bite of his own fry order.

"I thought all immortals ended up being a part of every glorious event in history. Just so they can flash back on it dramatically when involoved in any similar life experience."

"Hardly." Methos snorted, "looking back I think I have spent most of eternity either running away or getting drunk."

"Some life, but a long one I suppose. How long did you say?" Wyn sat back from her now empty plates and sipped her coffee. Methos marveled at the shear amount of resources the small woman before him had just consumed.

"I didn't actually. But about 5000 years."

It was Wyn's turn to snort. "I've only hit about 500 myself."

"Are you immortal then?" Methos asked, confused.

"No, just long lived. 5 eons is a bit more than I can manage I am afraid."

"You believe me then." Methos asked, casually.

"You believe me?"

Methos thought about that for a moment. It would stand to reason that in the course of his not unimpressive number of years he would have run into or at least heard rumors of a group of people unlike other humans. But he had hadn't he? All those myths of people turning into animals. Every culture had them. Sometimes they were monsters, sometimes great spirits or gods. It had simply just never occurred to him that those myths would have had to start somewhere. If he could be a guy from the stone age couldn't she be a werewolf?

"Yes." He said simply.

"Good. Now that the unpleasant basics are out of the way we can get on to the good stuff."

"Like what?"

"First weapons, then answers, then revenge" Wyn downed the rest of her coffee then took a wad of cash out of her pocket, the last of their funds after the night at the hotel.

"I like swords." Methos added helpfully.


	8. How Methos find himself as Bait

"I cannot believe you ate that many french fries." Methos muttered, shaking his head in confusion as they exited the diner.

"One of the joys of life my good man, those should never be enjoyed in moderation." Wyn intoned sagely, patting her stomach approvingly.

"Its not that you ate them all, I am just wondering where you put them."

"Amazing metabolism."

"Uh huh." Methos shoke his head one more time in exasperation. "I just think our money could be better spent elsewhere."

"I for one believe that is was divine providence that we had enough for two more helpings."

"French fries vs. transportation." Methos held his hands out in imitation of a scale unmistakably tipped towards transportation.

"Nonsense. Pick a car." Wyn crossed her arms settled back on her heels, surveying the parking lot.

"I suppose you can steal cars too huh, is that a stone age survival adaptation too?"

"Don't mock me. How about that one?" Wyn gestured at a sleek black BMW. Methos shrugged, "Why not?"

Wyn winked in his direction then walked towards the car. Methos followed, grumbling. "Some of the older cars are less likely to have alarms." He pointed out helpfully.

"Yes, but will they have remote starters?" She asked sagely, just reaching the drivers side door.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

In reponse, Wyn waggled a finger and the car chirped to indicate the alarm was deactivated. She winked at Methos and the automatic locks clicked open. She pulled open the door and settled in.

"Are you coming?" She asked. Methos was still standing in startled amazement. She put a hand on the dashboard the car roared to life. Methos hurriedly jerked open his door and plopped down on the seat, pulling the door shut after him as Wyn backed hurriedly out of the parking space.

"What?" He managed to ask finally, unsure of exactly how to phrase the question.

Wyn tapped her forhead and winked again. "Remote control is the wave of the future."

"Yeah, but you haven't got a remote." Methos pointed out, uselessly.

"Ah, but I do. Remember I told you I was connect to others of my kind?" Methos nodded, still a little awed. "Its sort of like my connection operates on the same frequency as remote controls, I can turn tv channels, or unlock cars."

"You are a living universal remote?"

"Yeah." Wyn nodded, focusing on the road. "But why can I mess with cars but not reach anyone else?" The last question was faint but Methos still heard it.

"We will find out, I promise."

Wyn smiled wanely, her triumph from surprising Methos had disappated.

"Now where are we headed?" Methos asked, settling into the leather seat.

"I need to make a phone call." Wyn glanced furtively around. She had turned onto a country road and there was nothing but old growth oaks heavy with spanish moss on either side of the road.

Meanwhile Methos was rummaging around in the console between the seats and produced an obviously loved Blackberry. "Will this do?"

"Perfect!" she beamed and grabbed the phone.

"Careful driving and dialing, I would hate for us to go through all this for us to die in a car accident." Methos intoned solemnly, hiding a smile.

"For some of us, death is only semi-permanent and it would take more that a crash to kill me." She winked at Methos and hastily dialed a number. All was silent for a moment as they waited for the other line to pick up. After a torturous five rings the ringer was replaced with a soft creole accented male voice. Methos couldn't make out exactly what he was saying but he seemed more than a little surprised when Wyn introduced herself.

"Hello Remli." She chirped happily. There was a squawk on the other end of the line. "Yes, yes but I am all escaped now." A pause for more faint talking, "Uh huh. Still in the old place?" there was an obviously questioning response. "Great. See you before sunrise." Wyn hit the button and cut off the outrage squawking in mid sentence.

"Always nice when old friends are happy to hear from you."

Methos indicated his unbelief with a snort.

"Lets just say the last time we met was memorable for both of us." Wyn sighed and settled into the drivers seat.

"Memorable enough that this meeting is unwise?" Methos asked, unsure of exactly what was happening.

"Perhaps, I bet hes still sore that I shot him, not literally of course since he heals pretty fast but his kind are notorious for their long memories." Wyn turned to Methos, "by the way, if he stares off into the space over your shoulder suddenly just give him a moment, he is probably flashing back to a past memory with similar circumstances as his present predicament."

"I had a friend like that." Methos said softly, suddenly missing Duncan. What would that overgrown good guy think of him now, intentionally tagging along with danger. Methos started to sigh then the first part of her statement finally registered.

"You shot him?"

"He shot me first."

"You SHOT him? And we are going to ask him a favor?"

"He owes me."

"For shooting him?"

"Yup."

Methos pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Please elaborate before I leap out of this car."

"He had a Van Helsing on his trail so I faked his death, he just wasn't as greatful for my help as I thought he would be."

"Did you warn him?"

"And risk it not looking real, of course not."

"You said Van Helsing, does that mean what I think it means?"

"Probably."

"Your friend in New Orleans is a Vampire?"

"He really hates that word."

"Of course he does." Methos threw up his hands in exasperation. "Exactly where was I during the last 5000 years that werewolves and vampires are real and I never knew?"

"I hate that word and I already told you…"

"Yes, yes." Methos interrupted, "I know, there have always been myths and they are based on truth blah blah, I am just saying you guys are pretty darn good."

"Thank you." Wyn grinned."Besides your kind has been around for at least as long as you have, 5000 years and humans never figured out you exist. That's a feat of equal difficulty I would say. Its not impossible to go undetected."

"Its all about the laying low." Methos nodded, agreeing with her logic. "Course a vampire in New Orleans is not exactly…"

"I know, I know. No surprise but you will understand when you meet Remli. He is somewhat…" she paused, searching for the right words, "over the top."

"No surprise from a vampire."

"Seriously, if you call him that to his face he will separate your head from your shoulders and that's game over." She intoned, her voice flat and serious.

"Okay okay." Methos held up his hands in surrender. "You are a hunter and he is a...?"

"Nightwalker."

Methos couldn't help himself, he barked out a laugh. "That is better?"

"I don't coin the names." Methos said, smiling herself, "But I have always thought that that one was pretty ridiculous myself."

"I suppose when he is in a car he's Nightrider?"

Wyn laughed even louder, "That was a terrible joke."

"A terrible joke? Please! Nightwalker? Now that is terrible…"

Wyn opened her mouth to retort but Methos beat her to it, "But I will keep that opinion to myself and will call him what ever you wish."

"Thank you.."

"To his face. But other than that I make no guarentees."

"I would expect no more or less. " Wyn replied, grinning.

Methos stretched and leaned his head back on the seat, enjoying the companionable silence. It felt so nice to be on an adventure. So much so that it surprised him. Being careful was a great way to survive but this was living! The most fun he had had in years. Decades really. As long as he didn't think about it too hard anyways. And for the next little while he intended to do just that.

Wyn woke him around 2 in the morning. "Time to abandon our ride." She whispered. There was no one around but the quiet dark of this particular street sort of demanded quiet. Methos grunted, quietly of course, and wiped the sleep from his eyes. Grabing a napkin from the glove compartment he wiped down the inside of the car and the handles outside. Just in case.

Wyn nodded approval at his work and as soon as he had finished and shut the car doors he heard the click of the automatic locks and the chirp as the alarm reactivated. He shot Wyn a questioning look but she just shrugged.

"Can't say I actually enjoy taking other people's property, even if I have a gift for it. Maybe they can find the owner."

Methos just shrugged and followed Wyns retreating form. They walked for awhile on New Orleans twisting maze of streets. They passed through bright areas and others he would only chance since he was sure he couldn't die. Wyn walked in silence. When questioned about where they were going she would only mutter, "Not far now." Methos settled back and enjoyed the walk. The area they were in was dark and deserted but still full of that garish charm New Orleans was famous for. He was trying to imagine what it would like in the sunlight when he noticed that Wyn was no where to be found. He stoped in his tracks and spun around, searching. He hadn't been that lost in thought. It was like she had disappeared into thin air. "Wyn?" He shouted. Spinning around again.

"Hey sugar, you're kinda cute." A honey-sweet voice came from out of the darkness.

Methos looked over to see a woman dressed in an impossibly short miniskirt and little else walking towards him.

"Have you seen a woman with redish hair around here anywhere?" Methos asked, swallowing and making a noble attempt to not look anywhere but at the woman's face. Must not get distracted…

"No but I can make sure you forget all about her." She smiled and licked her lips.

Methos just shook his head and turned away, intending to back track and see if he could find where he had lost track of Wyn. Before he could take a step he was snagged from behind.

"You really are cute you know. I never let the cute ones get away." The last part was whispered into his ear, her breath hot on his ear…. His neck….

A suddenly as he had been grabbed the girl was gone, ripped away.

"Hey!" Wyn shouted, holding onto the snarling woman while she thrashed, whipping around impossibly fast, but Wyn held on easily. "No eating my friends."

The girl snarled and writhed in Wyn's grasp. Oddly, Methos didn't find it hard to concentrate on the womans face now, it was utterly fascinating to see impossibly red eyes and sharp teeth where before there had only been an attractive woman.

"A little help?" Wyn asked politely.

"Oh yeah." Metho shook himself and walked up to Wyn and the captive. He punched the vampire squarely on the nose.

Her head snapped back and she went limp for a moment which was all Wyn needed to wrestle her face first to the ground. Pinning her with a knee on the back and arms flat on the ground Wyn sighed. "Now we can talk."

"Filthy hunter!"

"Glad you recognize me." Wyn said sweetly.

The girl turned her attention to Methos, "How do you feel about being bait? Hunters always use people, they only have friends if they can be manipulated."

"Considering you were about to munch on me, I would say your position on the whole issue of using people is tenuous at best." Methos said, unmoved by mind games. "Did you have to take the name nightwalker so seriously, I mean prostitute is such an obvious choice."

"Screw you." She lisped as Wyn pressed her face into the concrete.

"Now, down to business. " Wyn said, regaining the nightwalkers attention by pressing her knee even harder into the girl's back. "You are going to lead us to Remli."

"No way in hell."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"Then get off me."

"Not unless you help us."

"No."

"Then I am sorry for this."

Methos watched, fascinated as Wyn closed her eyes and a line of concentration appeared between her eyebrows. A low moan came from the girl pinned to the ground then she started to whimper and convulse. Her red eyes rolled back in her head and the whimpers grew louder. Until the girl was almost screaming, "Please stop! I will take you! I will take you! Please!"

Wyn shuddered and opened her eyes, she wouldn't look over at Methos but stood up and pulled the girl after her. "Take us."

The girl nodded and glanced at Wyn with a mixture of fear and hatred, but she mustered her dignity, straightened her skirt and stalked off.

"We best follow her." Wyn said quietly, still not meeting Methos' eyes.

He placed a hand on her shoulder, reassuringly. Trully, he had seen and done worse than whatever that had been. Wyn placed a hand over his and he was surprised at how good that felt.

"I just hate doing that." Wyn tapped a finger on her forehead again. "Always makes me feel dirty."

"Was it necessary?" Methos asked, softly.

"To achieve what we came here for, yes. Our two people don't really interact well."

"Then don't be ashamed."

"Thank you." Wyn said, turning to meet Methos' eyes. He was struck again by how unearthly beautiful they were.

"Would you two quit oogleing eachother. There is not freaking way you are going to torture me anymore by making out or some crap like that." The girl said forcefully, still leading them down darkened streets.

Methos laughed shakely but couldn't help but be overjoyed when he noticed Wyn was as shaken as he was.

They followed her in silence after that.

There destination turned out to be an older style mansion nestled between two others almost identical in size and decoration.

"How do you tell them apart?" Methos asked thoughtfully.

"I can smell them from here." Wyn muttered, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

"As if you smell any better." There erstwhile guide added venomously.

Wyn sniffed her shirt thoughtfully, "Point taken." She sighed, "Best to get this over with. At least he's expecting me."

She knocked on the door, Methos prudently waited a safe distance behind her, keeping an eye on their not so friendly companion.

After a few moments a man about Methos size but dressed in a garish black suit and top hat answered the door.

Wyn tried to swallow around the sawed off shotgun she suddenly found pressed against her throat. "Hello Gwyneth" Remli said in his soft velvety voice. "I believe I owe you a bullet."

"Whats that you said about expecting us?" Methos said wryly.


	9. How Methos comes to a sad Conclusion

Wyn swallowed noisily around the cold metal of the double barreled shotgun pressed painfullly against her throat and managed a winning smile.

"Come on old buddy. Remli. You know you missed me."

"I most certainly will not this time you idiot. You are a walking disaster!" The mans top hat quivered with the force of his emotion. "Last time I let you in my home you killed my second in command…"

"He was a fop anyways." Wyn interjected helpfully.

"I LIKE FOPS!" Remli yelled through clenched teeth. Wyn shrugged and rolled her eyes in Methos' direction. Remli, the top hatted vampire, continued.

"And you ruined my best tuxedo."

"All tuxedos look alike, how was I supposed to know that one was special?"

"A tuxedo I was only wearing that night because you insisted on it!"

Wyn shrugged, the shotgun quavered again as she drew in a breath. "It was for the best Rem."

"Rem-LI! And I would have thought that crawling away with a bullet in the back last time would have been proof enough of our friendship."

"Hey!" Wyn exclaimed, poking Remli viciously in the chest, "I saved your life!"

"That tux was my life!"

They regarded each other with cold stares for one long minute. Methos, who had been watching the whole procedings with mild amusement began to wonder if he should step in before this got messy. Before he could decide how best to handle the current predicament the supernatural duo burst in to raucous laughter.

Remli dropped his gun and they both clutched their stomachs in mirth then hugged enthusiastically, slapping each other on the back and grinning. This lasted for another long minute before Remli once again gained control. Wyn remained doubled over and slid down the door frame onto her butt, resting her head against the wall. Her body shook a few more times with giggle aftershocks before she poked Methos in the foot,

"Remli this is Methos. Methos, Remli." Remli nodded solemnly but did not offer his hand. Instead, after regarding Methos he knelt down and gently turned Wyns face to his. "What has happened my friend?"

"Not… now…." She whispered then turned to look at Methos, "Please help me up then we had best get inside."

Methos realized with a sudden shock what was happening.

"Remli," He tapped the top of the man's hat to get his attention. "We need a room, quick."

The nightwalker regarded Wyn for a long moment while Methos tried to reign in his patience. Finally he stood and gestured, two figures melted out of the shadows and made to help Wyn up but she snarled and lunged at them. Methos snaked an arm around her middle and held the struggling, growling werewolf. "Probably best if I handle it."

Remli nodded, all trace of mirth erased, and led Methos and his unwilling hostage to a plush bedroom down the hall from the entrance. With a nod from Remli he chucked his burden through the door then slammed it shut and held it while Remli produced a key and turned the lock.

"She couldn't break down the door even when she was…" Remli stopped, turned to Methos sheepishly then shrugged.

"It's the night, she seems to be doing fine then…" Methos was cut off by a dismissive wave from Remli.

"I do not need a lesson on Hunters my dear who-ever-you-are. Earning Wyn's trust is no easy thing and if you have hers then you have mine." Methos would have been touched if the woman in question wasn't currently howling and slamming herself against the door. Soon the noise broke off and the sound of rending fabric and smashing wood was heard from deeper in the room. Remli spoke softly "I used to keep that room empty in case a hunter needed some… alone time… I just haven't seen the need since…" He stopped suddenly and flashed a look at Methos.

"No matter, she will be better after the sunrise and we can talk then. If I am going to stay up with the sun I need to rest and perhaps you should do the same."

He snapped his fingers and a scantilly clad male figure melted out of the shadows to lead a bewildered immortal down the hall and to another bedroom, just as lavishly furnished as the last one was… er… had been. Remli himself disappeared to parts unknown, presumably to rest.

Methos sat down hard on the bed and flopped back to stare at the ceiling, which was mirrored. He snorted in disgust and rolled to watch the door instead. Did nightwalkers even have reflections? He laughed softly to himself.

There was no chance that he was going to get any rest, the last few nights had bee just too weird. Distantly through the intervening walls he could still hear the sound of Wyn joyously destroying furniture and other unsuspecting inanimate objects. What did Remli mean about not seeing any point in having a place for hunters anymore? Why were supernatural creatures of myth so close lipped? He smiled and rolled over to face the wall. It looked like he had to wait for morning to hear the answers, this was becoming an unhealthy trend he noticed.

Methos started to take stock of what he had going for him in this situation. Well, he mused, It can't kill me. This made him feel immensely better. Still, he thought morosely, I wouldn't mind having a sword.

….****…….******……

Methos looked at his drink suspiciously. What is it with vampires and red wine? He almost asked the question aloud but a glance around the room stilled his tongue. He was foolhardy but badly outnumbered. The ancient immortal decided to hold that particular observation until it could be given a smaller, less hostile, audience. If there was anything he had in abundance it was time, and bad luck but that goes without saying.

He was sitting in a surprisingly benign looking sitting room with no less that ten other 'nightwalkers.' Including the man himself, Remli. The man had abandoned his tophat in favor of a fedora with a jaunty feather, sleep pants and a skin tight white muscle tee. He was engaged in what looked like a vicious game of sudoku judging by the cursing and erasing. Everyone but the fedora sporting vampire was staring at Methos. The immortal grinned in their general direction and toasted his glass and downed the contents. What had been thinking when he said he enjoyed adventure? He sighed inwardly and settled back into the overstuffed chair he was currently occupying. Just when Methos was about to ask the general populace whether having nine bodyguards was really in line with Remli's comment about trust last night, Wyn walked in.

She had showered and was wringing her hair with a towel as she sauntered in. Her clothes had been abandoned in favor of a pair of sleeping pants obviously borrowed from Remli and an oversized sweatshirt. Methos thought she looked beautiful.

"All of you, out." Wyn said offhandedly, waving her hand in a shooing gesture.

The vampire collective glanced at Remli, who cursed and erased another column of numbers. Finding no support there they moped out, looking for all the world like a group of kicked puppies with fangs. Methos laughed aloud at that mental image and Remli looked up from his sudoku to regard him questioningly.

Methos cleared his throat and shrugged. If he could play the silent game, so could he. Besides, he was a creature of myth too.

Wyn sat down in the chair beside him and put both bear feet on the coffee table.

"Good morning gentlemen." She said loudly, glancing around the room. "Coffee?"

Remli laughed and held up a finger. "One moment love." He disappeared from the room and came back a moment later with a steaming mug. "Fortunately for you I keep a coffee pot around in case of emergencies." He smiled a tooth grin and handed the still seated Wyn the mug with a flourish before returning to his seat.

"We have much to discuss, no?" He said softly, setting aside the sudoku book. "Much has happened since you disappeared my dear."

"Are there any other hunters in the city? Maybe they can help me fix my…" She pointed at her head vaguely, "link."

"There are none." Remli said, still keeping his voice soft. Methos shifted uneasily, hearing a tone in Remli's statement that he didn't like.

Wyn obviously missed it, "None in the city? Do you know where the closest pack is?"

"My dear," Remli stood and walked over to kneel in front of Wyn, taking her hand from her mug and cupping it between his own. "There are no more Hunters."

Wyn shook her head unbelievingly, "I know there have never been very many of us, surely they have just…"

Remli shook his head and removed one hand from hers to gently tilt her chin until their eyes met. "I am not mistaken. You are the last."

Wyn set pulled her hand away and put the coffee cup gently on the coffee table before getting up and walking out of the room. She didn't even slam the door. Methos made to stand but Remli stopped him. "No, let her have a moment."

He stood and pivoted to flop down into the seat Wyn had vacated.

"How can they all be gone?" Methos asked once Remli was settled.

The vampire ignored his question, "They have always been," he paused to correct himself, "They were once a proud people. The connection they share is more than just for communication, it was support, love, friendship, life, death, all of it shared. A hunter from birth to death is never alone. Their pack is part of them, an extension of self. I should say was a part of them. Now it is all gone and the world is less than it was."

"How?" Methos asked quietly, afraid to disrupt Remli's rambling.

"Her. There was not one among them that would not have come if she called. And call she did, even if she was not aware of it. In her sleep she called for help and they came and were caught and killed to the last. By the time they woke her there were none left to hear her call."

"And you did nothing?" Methos asked, trying to hold in a sudden flare of anger.

"I tried. I offered sanctuary though I was condemned by my kind for doing so. I tried to persuade a few to stay but they couldn't ignore it, couldn't shut it out. By the time they realized what was happening their numbers were too small, they could not control themselves. Their link was their greatest gift and in the end, their greatest weakness."

Methos cursed their stupidity. What fools to go mindlessly into certain death! He stopped before he spoke aloud. How was that any different from his kind? Purposely seeking out opponents, drawn together to battle for a prize that always seemed hopelessly out of reach. And someday their would only be one of his kind remaining like Wyn was the last of hers. Who was he to judge?

After an eternity Wyn returned. Methos could see no evidence of tears on her face but her eyes were glittering dangerously. Though it was daytime their seemed to be something wild in her eyes that hadn't been there before.

She walked purposefully over to the coffee table and grabbed her cup, downing the hot contents in one gulp.

She placed the mug down again and turned to Remli, crossing her arms across her chest.

"We are going to need a lot of guns."

"And swords." Methos added helpfully.


	10. How Methos finds himself killed

It was a point of pride for Methos that he never leapt to conclusions or drew assumptions unless sufficiently motivated but there was one conclusion he felt justified in leaping to, Remli was a liar. Considering the immortal's experience and not inconsiderable amount of raw instinct he felt that this was a fairly safe assumption to draw.

Oh sure, the so called nightwalker may very well be telling the truth about some things but there was definitely crucial facts missing from his tale of werewolf woe. Perhaps, Methos admitted to himself, it was simply that the ancient cynic hoped most heartily that Wyn's people were not as profoundly stupid as this tale made them out to be. From what he had learned of Wyn she was exceptionally intelligent. And beautiful, he admitted grudgingly. Even if she was the best and brightest of her race it was beyond ridiculous to think that an entire race of people had stupided themselves to death.

Still, he thought with a sneer, Wyn seemed to trust the befanged buffoon and Methos was loathe to rock the boat at this particular time. Especially considering that the aforementioned unstable werewolf had been practicing with automatic weapons.

Methos made a mental note to talk with Vlad the imposter sometime soon however, he had eternity but that did not always give him patience. It wasn't as though it would be hard to find the opportune moment. In the week they had been staying in New Orleans the night walkers in residence at Remli's place had dwindled to almost zero. Apparently no one approved of Wyn the Hunter and her mysterious hanger on.

He assumed, safely, that Wyn must have vouched for him at some point because no one looked twice in his direction any longer. Not that there was really anyone left to look twice. Methos shook his head to clear it, there were more immediate matters to tend to, all the rest could easily wait.

The immortal had finally gotten a sword. And not just any nancy modern sword either, a full fledged medieval job that was no less than four feet of sharp, battle tested steel. Or so Remli had claimed when he gave it to him and considering the distant look in the vampire's eyes, Methos had thought it best not to question. Might lead to concurrent flashbacks to the Middle Ages which he never liked to flash back to if he could help it. The sword was a touch on the heavy side, having been made for a stockier brand of human than his slight bronze age frame but really, having to bulk up a bit was a small price for awesome.

He pushed open the doorway at the end of the home's main corridor and stepped blinking into a courtyard filled with sunshine. Yes, he thought with a sigh, this will do nicely.

Slipping easily into his sword practice, Methos spent several long moments just luxuriating in the feel of his muscles working and the sound of air moving as his sword whistled through the warm breeze. With the ease of long-practice he glided fluidly from one form to another, his steps blurring as he danced his age old dance. A solo duel that mocked the movements that would one day save his life or end another's.

All too quickly his steps slowed to a halt as he finished his routine and his sword dipped to rest on the ground as he debated whether to repeat the exercise. The sound of clapping interrupted his thoughts and the ancient swordsman glanced up to see a pair of golden eyes watching him from the doorway into the house.

"Most impressive." She said clearly, smiling more than she had in days.

"My lady is too kind." Methos replied regally, "I am but an old fool playing with a big knife." Methos concluded, touching the blade of his sword to his forehead and bowing respectfully.

"An old fool perhaps and a big knife surely but if that was play I fear to think what you may do when forced to be serious." Wyn responded, still smiling.

Methos shrugged. "I suppose if we go along with your plan that may be all too soon." The immortal regretted his words almost instantly as Wyn's smile vanished and her eyes took on a guarded look. "Forgive me my lady." Methos said softly, attempting to regain some of the jovial spirit they had had only a moment ago.

"Leave the future to itself." Wyn said balefully, waving a hand to dismiss Metho's worried stare. "At present, I would like to see if I can beat you, old fool." Her smile returned and she stepped out into the sunlight. Methos was shocked to see how pale and drawn she looked, her nights had been getting harder and lasting longer. But he kept the smile on his face, trying to keep the mood light.

"Beat me?" Methos laughed. "With what? I don't see you carrying anything." Methos glanced around by way of illustrating his point.

Wyn shrugged, rolling her shoulders like a fighter and hopping from foot to foot. "I don't need one, I have yours!" The last three words were shouted as she suddenly knelt then launched at Methos, startled but still alert he dodged to the side but while he was still off balance Wyn spun on the balls of her feet and launched herself into the air up and over Methos' head. He raised his sword to protect him from any kicks from above. Wyn slowed impossibly in the air then plummet straight down placing the balls of both feet firmly on the flat side of Methos' upraised sword. Putting all her momentum into pushing on the sword her fall carried the sword downward and out of a startled immortal's grasp. He could have maintained his grip but that would have meant falling with his weapon while Wyn landed nimbly on her feet. Face on the same level as feet, never a good idea.

Wyn bent fluidly to pick up the fallen weapon then flipped it around in a deft circle like it weighed nothing at all.

"Oh ho!" Methos exclaimed as he regained his feet, "It is SO on!"

Wyn just grinned toothily and crooked a finger at him.

Methos narrowed his eyes at Wyn and she giggled, actually giggled. Methos returned her grin and with a shout he charged. She parried his attack but he grabbed the blade with one hand and spun, pushing against her arm and levering the sword against his body using the angle and his momentum to wrench the hilt from Wyn's grasp. He completed his spin by flipping the sword into the air and grabbing the hilt with his uninjured hand. Wyn regained her balance and crouched on the balls of her feet.

"Nice one old man." She said, grinning maliciously.

"Thanks." He replied lightly, shaking a few drops of blood off his palm which was already healing.

"Enjoy your momentary victory foul beast!" Wyn taunted, rolling forward on her feet.

"Oh you won't get it again," He intoned, crouching into a fighting stance then went in for the low blow, "Werewolf."

Wyn screamed in mock fury and sprung into the air. Methos, never one to be fooled twice, rolled sideways and out from under her arch. She landed solidly as he regained his footing and prepared for her second attack. Methos braced his arm against the flat of blade and twisted into her charge expecting to see his own move mirrored. His suspicion was rewarded when her hand darted out to seize the blade but his stance made the angle need to wrench the hilt from his grasp impossible and he turned with her spin instead sending her reeling with her own momentum. As she fell away he turned the blade and gave her a solid smack on the rump.

"Temper, temper Lassie." He could not help but laugh at her squeal of protest. Wyn regained her balance and once more lunged at Methos. Sword, fist and feet blurred as Wyn attacked and Methos defended.

The moments seemed to drag on until finally Wyn broke through his guard and delivered a fierce jab to the immortals sternum knocking the wind from his lungs and doubling him over. She kicked upwards, clipping his chin and sending him flying backwards to land on the ground several feet away.

Well, Methos thought before passing out, at least the grass is soft.

He woke up to the a beautiful woman again. Except this time she was sitting on his chest and looking rather frightened.

"Oh. My. God. I killed him." She was saying softly, stroking his cheek.

"Only with your beauty my lady." He said groggily but gallantly. Dying always made him feel a bit hung over.

"Thank God!" She said with feeling then slapped him, "No mushy talk when I have just snapped your neck."

"Ow!" Methos said indignantly but with a grin still in place. "No slapping me for speaking the truth."

She held her open palm up warningly. Methos waved in defeat, "Okay okay, no lovey-dovey language for half an hour after resurrection."

Wyn shook her head and lowered her hand the leaned over and kissed Methos squarely on the lips.

Well, Methos reasoned, technically kissing was not talking.

After a few moments Wyn broke the kiss and rolled off Methos to lay in the grass beside him.

"I thought I killed you." She said softly, turning to regard him with those eerie golden eyes.

Methos extended and hand then turned a finger to point at himself, "Unkillable."

Wyn regarded him solemnly, "Does it hurt?"

"Death to my kind is sort of like the common cold. You get at least one every year or so but they go away quickly enough." Except for one he added silently.

"You die that often?" Wyn asked, incredulous.

"I lead a dangerous life."

Wyn was still watching him seriously, "I'm sorry I killed you."

"It's really no problem."

"I just got," Wyn waved her hand vaguely, "carried away." Methos rolled and rested a hand on her arm reassuringly.

"Would kissing me more make you feel better?" He asked in mock seriousness. The golden eyes lost their serious cast and rolled dramatically. She sat up so her back was to Methos. He started absently picking grass off her tee shirt.

"Methos?"

"mmm?" he replied sleepily.

"Have you ever been a doctor?"

"mmhmm." He replied, thinking how he ought to get out and enjoy the sun more often.

"So you could perform surgery."

Methos snorted, "That was a long time ago, surgery amounted to, here drink this bottle of bad whiskey before I cut off your leg with a saw."

"Could you do something for me?" She was hunched over her knees picking at individual blades of grass so Methos could not see her face. He regarded her back thoughtfully before replying.

"Do what?"

"Well," Wyn turned to face him again. "Despite what Remli says I can't believe they are all gone."

Methos nodded in acknowledgment, that was wise of her to not take Remli at his word. The vampire was just so, odd.

"I feel like there is still something…blocking me."

"You started that car." Methos added in what he hoped was a distracting manner.

"That's simple. This could be blocking the part of me that can touch others of my kind." She said softly, her golden eyes hot. "If I can reach them then we won't have to fight these people alone."

"Something could do that?"

"Theoretically yes."

"Theorectically." Methos said flatly.

"And I should be able to," she trailed off until the last few words were delivered in a whisper, "control myself."

Methos rubbed the small of her back comfortingly. "And you think they did something to you? Implanted something?"

"Yes." Wyn's voice was still a whisper.

"And where would it be located?"

In answer she turned her head and pointed at the back of her neck, just at the base of the skull.

"No, absolutely not." Methos said with an air of finality. "I would make you a vegetable."

"Better that than a lonely rapid wolf." Wyn said, her eyes haunted.

"I won't do it."

Wyn smiled, dismissing Methos' concern with a wave. "Oh, I'm so glad you said yes."

"But I didn't."

Wyn grabbed his hand and tugged him to his feet.

"Come on, there are knives in the kitchen and bad whiskey too."

Wyn started pulling him steadily toward the house.

"Can't we just kiss more? I liked the kissing part." Methos couldn't help but feel like this was a fight he wasn't going to win.


	11. How Methos Finds Himself Running Away

Wyn was two steps away from entering the kitchen when she halted so abrubtly that Methos slammed into the back of her before he even knew she had stopped. The immortal rubbed his still sore chin gingerly.

"What gives?" He asked, trying to peek into the gloom of the open door for a clue.

In response the increasingly strange woman turned and gave Methos a bright smile. "I still say that an automatic weapon is better than any giant knife." She said loudly, tapping her nose and giving Methos an exaggerated wink.

Stunned, Methos winked back and pasted on a smile.

"Swords never run out of ammunition and lets face it, a dude with a sword just looks badass." He responded, picking up on her clue to not ask questions.

She huffed loudly and pivoted back towards the doorway. In a few determined steps she had disappeared into the dark interior. Methos glanced longingly back at the sundrenched courtyard. It had been so nice to just be alone outside with his thoughts for the first time in awhile. He shook his head and followed Wyn into the house.

Remli was standing just inside the house, leaning against a wall just beyond the reach of the sunlight.

"Don't let her trash talk swords like that." He said, offering Methos a toothy grin. Wyn had stopped opposite Remli and was leaning against the opposite wall, seemingly relaxed. Methos paced forward a few steps until he was just out of Remli's reach.

"Women just don't understand." Methos quipped, rolling his eyes dramatically and throwing his hands up in exasperation.

Remli stepped forward and slapped Methos on the shoulder in a show of manly solidarity. The ancient immortal couldn't help but notice that it was a little harder than was strictly necessary. Resisting the urge to rub his shoulder Methos concentrated on keeping his smile in place as Remli turned to Wyn.

"How are you holding up?" He asked, the picture of brotherly concern.

She shrugged but her posture remained relaxed. "Well enough I quess."

Remli nodded solemnly and reached out a hand to stroke Wyn's cheek gently. For some strange reason Methos tensed as some unfamiliar emotion suddenly rolled through him. While he was marveling at what it could be Wyn reached up and pulled Remli's hand away, letting it drop back to his side once more. He gave her a thin smile. "If you ever need to talk about it." He said, his tone a little more icy.

"I know who to find." Wyn returned politely, smiling with closed lips.

Remli nodded at her then turned back to Methos. "See you both tonight."

With that the vampire turned to walk deeper into the house, disappearing around a corner. Wyn watched him walk away then turned and threw her arms around Methos with uncharacteristic affection. Still embracing him she stood on tiptoes until her lips were level with his ear. Methos felt another, more familiar emotion begin to stir in his chest as her body pressed against his. He could feel her breath on his throat when she spoke.

"Get your things, I will meet you in your room in ten minutes."

Methos nodded, "What's this…" Wyn's finger across his lips stilled his question. She dropped her other arm and stepped back, still keeping her finger on his lips. She caught his gaze with her golden one and shook her head slowly from side to side with her lips pressed firmly together. Methos nodded his comprehension and she dropped her finger.

She mouthed the word "ten" then spun on the balls of her feet and loped down the hall.

Methos wanted to take a moment to stand looking stupified but in the end he decided that action was the best course of action. He took a cue from Wyn and spun on the balls of his feet to trot back out into the courtyard. His sword still lay on the stones in the yard and he grabbed the hilt deftly, flipping it once in the air he let his arm drop until the blade hung down along his side then went back into the darkened hall. Pulling the door closed he never took his eyes off the direction that Remli had disappered. He didn't know what was up but something was fishy, he could smell it. The ever prophetic hairs on the back of his neck were standing at attention and the immortal knew better than to ignore their warning. Methos padded cautiously back to his room, checking around every corner as he went. When he got to his room he pushed the door open with one foot, sword at the ready, but the only thing that greeted him was the still unmade bed. With a sigh he slipped into the room and pulled the door closed behind him. A quick search of the closets and obvious hiding spots turned up nothing and he let his sword drop to the bed before pulling out a worn pack and throwing a few scattered cloths, a leather journal and a few assorted knives he had liberated from around Remli's kitchen during the last few mealtimes.

Methos glanced at the sword on the bed and cursed softly. There just wasn't time to make a sheath that he could hide under a trenchcoat. The decision of whether or not to take the sword anyway was really no decision at all. He grabbed the sheath that Remli had given him with sword and buckled it around his waist. Slipping the sword into it Methos breathed a sigh of relief. It just felt good to have the weight of a sword on his hip again. The immortal trotted over to the closet, sword swinging at his side, and pulled it open to reveal the long black trench coat he had found in a spare bedroom on one of his daytime forays through the house. He put it on turned to the full length mirror on the wall near the closet, squinting at his reflection.

"Damn I still look good." He said, grinning at himself and offering the mirror a roguish wink. The trenchcoat fit well and hung just low enough to hide all but the very tip of the sword sheath. It still made the coat stick out oddly in the back but a casual observer wouldn't see the sword unless they looked twice.

Methos walked back to the bed and slung the pack on his back just in time to see the door to his room open softly. He had his sword half out of the sheath before he saw Wyn peek around the frame and motion for him to follow her. Letting the weapon go he padded out after her, letting the door click closed behind him. She nodded approvingly at his outfit then set off down the hall. Methos followed her, checking behind him every once in a while to be sure that no one was following them. They made their way deeper into the seemingly endless maze of halls and doors. After a relative eternity Wyn gestured for Methos to stop, she walked to the nearest door and turned the knob slowly, pulling it open she motioned again for Methos to follow her then disappeared into the room beyond. Methos stepped through the door and was surprised to see another bedroom much like his own. Wyn was over by the mirror near the closet, fussing with the wooden mirror frame. After a moment there was the sound of a latch clicking open and the mirror swung forward. In the wall behind was a dusty ladder leading up. Wyn turned to wink at Methos then gestured for him to go ahead of her. He narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously but she gestured more emphatically and he reluctantly made his way towards the hidden ladder.

The rungs were coated thickly with dust and Methos silently regretted getting so much grime on the nice black trench. After he had gone about ten feet up he heard the latch slide close below him and the ladder shook as another body began to climb up.

"Keep going!" Wyn whispered from below and Methos picked up the pace, scaling another thirty feet of ladder before bumping his head on a solid wooden ceiling. He muffled a curse and looked down to see a pair of golden eyes looking up at him, throwing back a reflection from some unknown light source.

"There should be a latch." She whispered up at him. Methos turned his gaze back to the wood above him but the creepy hidden passage was suitably pitch black.

"I can't see anything." Methos whispered back.

"Here." Wyn muttered, tapping Methos' booted foot with a hard metal cylinder." Methos reached down to grasp the metal body of a flashlight. Wrapping one elbow around the vertical side of the ladder he freed up both hands to fumble for the on switch. Dim red light filled the small space and Methos aimed it up at the hard ceiling above him. There was a clear outline of a trapdoor with a latch along one side. Pullin it open he pushed up with his shoulders and suddenly found himself blinking in a flood of sunlight. Looking around he saw a flat gravel rooftop with a low brick ornamental wall around the outside. There was a sharp poke from below.

"Don't just stand there gawking!" came a muted whisper and Methos clambered out onto the roof quickly.

Wyn emerged a moment later and fliped the trapdoor shut, clicking the latch closed. From the outside nothing of the door was visible.

"Nice secret passage." Methos said with genuine admiration.

"Thanks." Wyn said, kicking gravel back over the hidden door.

"You put that in?"

"No." Wyn shook her head. "But I might have gotten a Hunter or two on the day crew when Remli was having this place built."

"Sneaky." Methos said, nodding in approval. "Devious even."

"I know Remli." Wyn said, smiling at Methos.

"Is that why he shot you?"

She tossed back her head and laughed. "Can we discuss this after we get off the roof?"

Metho shrugged and motioned for Wyn to continue on with whatever business had them out here. "Can I at least ask why the abrupt exit?"

Wyn sighed. "I know Remli."

"So you said."

"He's a classic business man. Always open to any opportunity."

"And you think he sold you out." Methos said, silently agreeing wholeheartly. Befanged buffoon indeed.

"He was probably on the phone before we even got here."

"But why now?" Methos asked, walking over to the wall to look down on the street some four stories below.

"He was listening to us when we were talking in the courtyard."

Methos nodded in sudden comprehension. "He had something else to bargain with."

Wyn nodded, making her way towards the western edge of the roof. "He knew I didn't believe him and that you were not what you seem."

"Time to run away then."

"Running away is a good was to stay alive." Wyn agreed, climbing up to balance on the narrow brick wall that bordered the roof.

"I think I love you." Methos said sincerely.

She turned back to give him a smile that made his knees weak then leapt off the side of the building.

With a yelp Methos ran over to the edge and leaned over to see Wyn on the neighboring roof a bare ten feet away and about five feet lower.

"Come on!" Wyn said, still grinning. Methos jumped up onto the small wall and took a deep breath.

"What's the worst that could happen?" he muttered under his breath before pushing himself into the air. He landed on his feet but the momentum carried him forward into a sprawl.

"It's been awhile since I went roof jumping." The immortal said, laughing at his lack of grace.

"Prepare for some practice." The werewolf was already making her way across the sloped roof towards its other flat gravel neighbor.

Methos sighed and adjusted his pack.

"How far do was have to do this?" He called at her retreating form.

"Just a few blocks."

Methos shook his head, resigned.

"Why?"

"Remli will have people watching the street."

Methos sighed. The idiot knew how to cover his bases. "I'm guessing he doesn't have the rooftops covered?"

"The main door to the roof is wired to set off the house alarm. If it doesn't open, he doesn't know to look up here." Wyn called over her shoulder just before she leapt onto the next roof in line.

The immortal shook his head and started after her.

By the time they could clamber down to the street level again Methos was rolling, jumping and climbing just as nimbly as Wyn. When they landed on the cracked asphalt of the alleyway he brushed of his black coat until it was again presentable then turned to face who was watching him with amusement.

"One would think you had done this before."

Methos shrugged. "I have ended up in a few bedrooms that required a quick escape."

"I am not surprised."

"Me neither." Methos agreed, flashing her his sultry smile.

"A bit full of yourself aren't you?" Wyn asked, turning to walk towards the opening to the alleyway.

"5,000 years does tend to give one a certain insight into their attractiveness." Methos called after her.

"You have a big nose!" She taunted over her shoulder.

Methos shook his head, smiling, then ran after her.

"You are avoiding the subject."

"What subject?" Wyn asked, the picture of innocence. They merged onto the half deserted street and Methos adjusted his coat to hide the sword as much as possible, he glanced around at the sparce number of people out walking but they all had their eyes on the ground.

"What are we going to do about this?" He tapped the back of her neck gently.

"Remove it."

Methos sighed. "I can't."

Wyn glanced at him out of the corner of her eye then dropped her gaze. "There is no one else."

"There is."

Wyn's steps faltered but she kept walking. "There is?"

"You aren't the only one who knows people." Methos said softly, putting his arm over her shoulder and pulling her close. It was just to hide the sword at his hip he told himself firmly though his heart was doing an odd sort of flip at her touch. To his surprise Wyn didn't shy away and cautiously put her reached her arm around to rest across his lower back.

"This is only so we don't look out of place." She muttered out of the corner of her mouth.

"Of course." Methos agreed. Though he noted with some satisfaction that her breathing had picked up and she was leaning into him more than was really necessary.

"We are going to need a car." Methos intoned impishly, looking down at Wyn. She smiled wanely back up at him.

"I think I can handle that." Wyn sighed, tapping her forehead with one hand.

Methos gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze. "Then lets get you to the Doctor."


End file.
